


unrepentant

by mstigergun



Series: Inglorious [10]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Trauma, post-haven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 00:31:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5436731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mstigergun/pseuds/mstigergun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alla promised Leonid that <i>shooting</i> would help drive the horrors of Haven from his mind. She was wrong.</p>
<p>Thankfully, Basten is around to offer distraction.</p>
<p>(In which we discover that Leonid is establishing a pattern of behaviour)</p>
            </blockquote>





	unrepentant

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by [neurotrophicfactors](http://neurotrophicfactors.tumblr.com) for _a surprise kiss_. Originally posted on [Tumblr](http://mstigergun.tumblr.com/post/132550153113/11-for-basten-and-leonid-please).
> 
> Set after ["Golden Scythe"](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Inglorious/works/5049310) and before ["Full Draw."](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Inglorious/works/4778234)

“You’re up early.”

He doesn’t even bother turning, voice as familiar as the cant of his own thoughts – which are dark this early in the day, filled with none of the  _blessed blankness_  Alla had assured him of before leaving the day before yesterday.  _You’ll find it greatly soothing_ , she promised, her hand clasping his forearm in a warm familiar gesture he’d found more unsettling than anything else.  _Training does tend to pull the mind away from other, fouler things_.

Though what  _Alla_  has to be so concerned about is certainly beyond Leonid. Regardless, he thought it worth an attempt, as his sister does know a thing or two of the world beyond the rather narrow scope of his expertise.

It hasn’t done a blighted thing.

“Can’t sleep,” Leonid says, hauling back on the bowstring and sending another arrow straight at the heart of the distant target. It punches its way entirely through the straw, coming to rest in the building behind it. He sniffs, the air cold, the sky above them gray. Half-turns and shoots a quick glance at Basten, who’s leaning against the side of the tavern.

Leonid would have expected him to look  _cheerful_ , as he so often does in the morning. Instead, however, those shockingly blue eyes are shadowed, his features drawn into a picture of serious study.

Well, that won’t do, having him draw conclusions based on Leonid – being  _here_. Awake and practicing in the cold morning air, air that only grows colder with each passing day. Just as he only grows less  _settled_  with each passing day, the damned nightmares only becoming all that much –

He stops the thought.

“I may have been a little quick to send you away last night, Basten,” Leonid tries with a crooked smile that he turns to hide before it collapses in on itself. He plucks another arrow from the quiver at his feet. “If I’m going to be up all night, I might as well be bent over that little table in my quarters.” The arrow lances a distant, painted eye. “Or pinned up against the wall.” He grasps another arrow, sending it soaring through the cold air the moment he can get it lined up. “Or –”

It flies wide, thudding loudly into the side of the tavern.

“To the  _fucking Void_  with these  _arrows_ ,” Leonid spits, because it  _was_  the arrow’s fault. The miss had  _nothing_  to do with the unsteadiness in his hands. “I swear to the Maker, I  _am_  going to start making my own, even if Sera and Alla are  _no help_. At least I’ll be able to predict in which ways they’ll be  _fucked_.”

“I could help,” Basten offers from behind him, easy. “My sister makes weapons, so I can do more than lifting heavy things.”

“I don’t need your help.” Leonid grabs at another few arrows, pausing to glare at the fletching which may be  _prettier_  than his, but seems to render them entirely  _unpredictable_. Better ugly and consistent than pretty and –

He shoots another look at Basten, who’s still leaning against the side of the tavern. Whose eyes are still bright with – something on this damnable dim morning. Concern, perhaps, which a vile enough thought that it makes a lump take shape in Leonid’s throat.

“Well,” admits Leonid, twisting to loose the cluster of arrows at a distant target as he forcibly ignores the tightness in his chest, “I  _did_  need your help. And I could have certainly used you as a  _distraction_ , but – Ah. There.” The bolts find their home, sending a spray of loose straw puffing up from one target. He huffs, turning again to toss a self-satisfied little smile in Basten’s direction. “See? I’m an excellent shot now. Funny, that, how as soon as you  _kill_  someone, everything  _changes_.”

He means that his skills have sharpened, brought to a point by panic and necessity – but as soon as the words leave his mouth, he realizes that they’re more true than he’d intended. Wretchedly accurate, from the shadowed memories that make it hard to sleep to –

He swallows, smile faltering. Something hot and dangerous prickling at the corners of his eyes.

“Things do change,” Basten offers, pushing himself off of the tavern wall and starting toward Leonid. “Did you talk to Alla about that?”

“Did I – Ha.” Leonid looks away. Grabs at another handful of arrows. “Yes, we had quite the conversation about  _murder_. She gave me a pat on the head and told me how  _very proud_  she was, and then she kissed my forehead and we made each other  _friendship bracelets_.”

As if he’d talk to Alla about something like this. As if he’d talk to  _anyone_  –

Bad enough that so many had seen just what Haven had done to him. Worse that anyone should see how it’s lingered beneath his skin, like an infection for which there’s no cure. Something that leaves him cold and sick, something that wakes him in the middle of the night, sheets damp with sweat and his heart hammering just as frantically as it had when –

Basten draws to Leonid’s side, which is  _far_  too close indeed. Harder to hide the way his smile can’t hold its shape when Basten’s near enough to touch. Harder to pretend he doesn’t feel his eyes grow glassier,  _stupid_  as that  _is_  and –

“Now, now. Don’t stand too close,” Leonid says, drawing his bow tight and shooting each target in turn, with a deadly precision he hadn’t known he possessed before Haven. The same precision that had impressed his sister, though whether his ability to murder someone should be admirable was –

Leonid shoves his way past the thought, instead trying for another smile, although his heart has started fluttering inside his throat, although he can feel his fingers start to shake in the cold. “You see? If I shot you now, I’d be liable to actually kill you. I’ve gotten much better, and so you’d be  _dead_ , Basten, and then Kubrasan would be furious, and she’s terrifying.” He squints at the distant targets, the cold prickling at his eyes – just there at the corners, a wretched and familiar feeling that –

His knuckles whiten around his bow, stare fixed on the distant targets, his throat constricted. Choked. It’s hard, suddenly, to breathe, like he can’t quite catch a lungful of air, too cold or thin or  _something_  that has to do with the mountains, surely, and the early hour. He makes a soft sound, tries to clear space in his throat, but –

In the span of a heartbeat, Basten as forcibly plucked the bow from Leonid’s hands and then caught Leonid’s mouth in a hard kiss, hands tugging Leonid close as he presses down on him.

For a moment, Leonid is too shocked to do anything, Basten’s mouth hot against his, his fingers leaving indents on Leonid’s skin even through his leathers. His body a steady weight against Leonid’s, the feel of him  _familiar_. Then –

A breathy sound leaves his throat, the world flashing hot and bright and  _good_. His hands curl themselves in the soft fabric of Basten’s coat as one of Basten’s hands curls around the back of his head, holding him tight against Basten’s body. He curves above Leonid, warm, and Leonid suddenly can’t get quite close enough, skin hot, mouth open against Basten’s, his hands falling to tug insistently at the shape of Basten’s hips –

In the distance, a door slams, and they break apart, a rasped laugh tearing free from Leonid’s lips. “Maker,” he says around the grin that shapes his mouth, “What was  _that_  about? And in the  _yard_  no less, Basten.” He shoves a hand against Basten’s chest, before it grabs a handful of fabric at his waist. Steady there, against the warmth of his skin.

Basten blinks down at him. For a moment, he says nothing and the empty yard around them is silent save for the distant echo of Leonid’s pulse. Then, bright as sunshine, Basten grins. He shrugs his massive shoulders, one hand lingering against the shape of Leonid’s arm. “All that talk about having you bent over a table or pinned up against a wall – you have to expect that to have an effect, Leonid.” Still, he stands close enough for Leonid to feel the warmth of his body, his certain and palpable presence where there was only chill a moment before.

Leonid snorts. “Of course it does,” he says, leaning closer and staring up at Basten through half-lidded eyes. “I know how you work.”

“And I know how  _you_  work,” Basten says with a certainty Leonid should find  _irritating_  – to be thought of as  _knowable_  rather than an  _eternal enigma_  – but instead leaves him feeling warm in a way he doesn’t quite understand. “Which means I think we should head back to your quarters.”

It’s a far better plan than lingering in the cold yard and continuing to shoot singularly wretched arrows. Far better. Worlds better.

Alla’s full of shit, Leonid decides as he and Basten pick their way across Skyhold and toward Leonid’s quarters. He doesn’t need  _practice_  to chase away things he’d rather not think of. He needs a hot-skinned lover who can smile his way through anything, whose mouth is generous, whose hands are certain, and who always leaves Leonid feeling –

Alive. Steadier. And  _unrepentant_.


End file.
